


Seventeen Drabbles

by SunAndMoon (LadyMorgaine)



Series: Skinship Collection [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Soonhoon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-06-29 07:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMorgaine/pseuds/SunAndMoon
Summary: Kwon Soonyoung learns the perils of not paying attention when he's suckered into the latest crazy idol challenge, training a member of their group to participate in a taekwondo tournament. The timeframe? A hundred days. The member? Lee Jihoon.He might as well start running now.





	1. The Challenge Begins

Hoshi wasn’t sure how he’d gotten into this predicament.

 

He generally paid attention at interviews, given that he was one of the main MCs of the team, but it had been a long day of practice followed by a long interview in a nice, warm place, and not even his patented wake-up method of Chan pinching him under the table had worked.

 

“So!” the host said grandly to him, holding up a board with three stickers on it. “Which member will it be?”

 

His eyes flickered to the board. If they had had words he might still have had a clue, but all he could see was a pony of some sort, a twirling ballerina and a baby kitten. Around it, his bandmates were looking on with anticipation, some looking downright evil.

 

“…the kitten?” he said with a patented smile, trying frantically to remember what the last five minutes of conversation had been about. Nothing bad ever happened when you went with kittens, right?

 

The host beamed and reached out to strip the kitten sticker away and Hoshi knew, he _knew_ who the face beneath it would be the moment he saw the first lock of hair. Their adorable VoBo stared at him with the kind of cute smile he reserved for fans, along with a scrolling logo of tiny little martial artists beneath it. The real article, seated across the desk of him, didn’t look that cute at all. He looked murderous instead.

 

_What the fuck?_

 

“Seventeen’s champion has been chosen!” the host announced happily as he keyed something into the station’s computer. “Now, that’s about all we have time for, so let’s listen to their latest comeback and then we’ll say goodbye to our Seventeen.”

 

The mics cut as the song started playing and Hoshi leant back a little in his chair, suddenly painfully awake. Jihoon-ah was giving him the Stare of Death across the table before he looked away, and Jun was curling in his chair laughing it up with the maknae line. Swallowing, he leant sideways to Shua- _hyung_. “What did I just agree to?” he asked sotto voce.

 

Shua- _hyung_ shot him a look, one that melted from surprise to genteel mirth. “I don’t know if I should spoil the surprise for you.”

 

“ _Hyung_!” he whined.

 

“You agreed to tutor one of the members of Seventeen in taekwondo for an inter-band competition,” his _hyung_ explained. “Like the ISACs, but less ssireum and more kicking.”

 

Soonyoung felt his spine turn to stone in tiny little increments. “Please don’t tell me…” he started.

 

“Oh yes,” Jeonghan- _hyung_ said maliciously as he leant forward between their chairs. “Why else do you think VoBo looks like he wants to give you the guitar? If I were you, Kwon Fire, I’d start running as soon as we got out of here. Your chance of any lines in the next comeback just evaporated.”

 

Hoshi started praying for the ground to swallow him up. It wasn’t that he had a bad relationship with Jihoon-ah. They were often paired up for events since fans found them adorable together, and he had a good working relationship with him as he did any of their members, but deep in his psyche there was still the lingering fear of the guitar. Their smallest member didn’t _need_ instruments to make him deadly, and teaching him taekwondo would likely lead to the apocalypse, or world domination, or something like that.

 

“How long do I have?” he whispered.

 

“A hundred days,” Shua- _hyung_ muttered as their song drew to an end. “Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what boiled out of my mind after a much-needed angry nap and some soonhoon fics. It's just a short drabble at the moment, but I look forward to turning it into a Real Fic sometime.


	2. Chapter 2

Soonyoung made sure he got into the van that didn’t have Lee Jihoon in it, even if that meant tolerating Seokmin’s on-key but off-topic singing. He tuned it out, turning his face from the head in front of him – Lee Chan – to the window. He halfway wished he could open the window. After the recording room’s air-con had been on the fritz, it was a miracle to feel cool air flow from the vent onto his face.

 

_Lee Jihoon. Fucking Lee Jihoon._

_We are friends._

_It should be easy to do this, practically a walk in the park._

 

His mind helpfully trotted out excuse after excuse about how everything would be sunshine and roses. That Jihoon-ah was a dancer, a great one at that, and he’d not have to worry about flexibility or lack of dedication. The fans would love it.

 

A million and one thoughts like that, but still a queer, itching feeling tickled in the hollow behind his breastbone.

 

Thinking a curse out loud, he turned his head to Seungcheol-hyung at his side, opening his mouth. His hyung was a trained martial artist too, and had as many accolades and a great deal more patience. His hyung could…

 

“No,” Seungcheol-hyung said without a word from his side. “Whatever you’re thinking, no. You brought this on yourself.”

 

“But hyung,” he whined, hands clasping around his choreography notebook. “I have to start working on the choreography for our next songs… where am I going to find time?”

 

Seungcheol-hyung turned his head, looking at him through ridiculously long lashes. “No,” he repeated simply. “You’re doing this, Kwon Fire. The news have already been broadcasted. Do you want to disappoint the fans? Also, do you think he has an easy time? He has to write those songs you want to choreograph.”

 

Soonyoung felt perhaps five inches tall at the gentle rebuke in his leader’s voice. They were all good points, and yet his insides still rebelled. He wasn’t sure _why_. It wasn’t even the guitar. It was just… it was a lot of things over the past few months, most of which had thankfully not made it onto a camera.

 

Fighting a pout, he nodded. When they got out of the van at the dorm, he scooped up the remains of his bravery and scooted around the others, tapping Jihoon-ah on the shoulder before he got into the lift. It didn’t take much, just a flick of questioning brows, before their VoBo remained behind as everyone else piled in.

 

“Jihoon-ah, I’m sorry…”

 

Jihoon-ah stared up at him, brow smooth and careless, but eyes as intent as when he critiqued them in the booth. “I have a spot open tomorrow from seven in the afternoon to nine,” he said abruptly. “Is that convenient for you, hyung?”

 

Soonyoung’s mind rushed through his schedule, trying to remember through the fog of wanting to sleep. “That’s okay. We can go for dinner afterwards, it won’t be good to have too much in your stomach beforehand…”

 

“…I know how to take care of my body.” Short, snappy, angry, a sign that their Vobo was nearing his limit.

 

“Taekwondo isn’t like dancing…”

 

“Hyung! I get it, okay? I’ll be ready. Just… I need to go and sleep. Please.”

 

Soonyoung stared as Jihoon-ah nearly punched the button for the elevator, shocked that he’d walk away, ego just a trifle hurt as if he hadn’t been doing everything he could to get out of it. He stared as he walked away into the lift, small body one big angry muscle contraction, and only blinked as the lift doors closed again. It didn’t even register how rude his dongsaeng had been to him.

 

No. What nailed him to the spot was the very slight trace of tears he had seen in Jihoon-ah’s eyes as he had fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Only short bits want to come out, like I'm seeing flashes or photographs of someone else's life rather than glorious HD. 
>   2. Where this went from light-hearted to sudden hints of something wrong? I have no idea what's going on either. 
>   3. Everyone's tweeting about Manila SVT concert tickets on my feed, it's enough to make me cry. 
> 



	3. Day #1

The morning schedule dragged on. It was hot and humid already, and his cheeks were swollen from last night's gulped ramen and little sleep. The makeup noona had been messing around with sponges and cushions and teeny-tiny brushes and he felt as if he had a thick layer of goop on his face, even though it was a thin, even layer.

 

Someone moved behind him and he opened his eyes fully, following the muted Hawaiian shirt in the mirror. Jihoon looked fresh as a fucking daisy and he felt a pout forming, lower lip jutting out with irritation.

 

Dark eyes at his in the mirror, and a hand stretched out to place a cold bottle of water in his hand. Nothing more.

 

Soonyoung looked down at the apology in his hand and swallowed past a suddenly thick spot in his mind. Suddenly the day didn't seem too bad, and he had to fight to smother his smile.

 

The effect of that bottle of water lasted through the recording, through the practice, through his late lunch, all the way until the gym. It had been a while since he had worn a _dobok_ , and the new black one befitting second dan still felt harsh against his skin. Out of practice. He was so out of practice. He tucked everything where it should be, tied the belt low around his waist and scooted to the boxing section.

 

"I didn't know you kept up your martial arts, hyung," came a soft voice from the lifting section beside the boxing mats; Lee Jihoon could fold up like a cat, and had squeezed into a space he'd be hard-pressed putting a willing puppy into. When Soonyoung tilted his head, he waved his phone. "Your belt," he muttered. "I've been studying a little."

 

Soonyoung bit his lip not to smile like a preening peacock. "I've kept it silent. It's just for me, not for the fans. Come on. We'll warm up, and then we'll work on rolling and falling today. Forgive me if you end up a little bruised, okay? _Hyung_ will make it up to you after the tournament."

 

"Oh, don't worry," Jihoon said. "Now I have a legitimate reason to beat you like a dusty carpet."

 

Soonyoung blinked and suppressed another smile. He looked so _cute_ , all maliciously smiling like that. "Big words from a little boy," he taunted. "If you manage to hit me, I'll buy you double dinner after this. With extra rice."

 

Jihoon's teeth glimmered as he stood and came closer, eyes aflame. "You're going to regret that, _hyung_ ," he promised. "Oh, you're going to regret that."

 

Two hours later both of them dripped with sweat and Soonyoung felt the workout in the ache of his bones. Jihoon had valiantly struggled to keep up, but wilted like a sad little lettuce leaf. Shaking his head, he wandered to where the younger was spread-eagled on the mat, panting to get his breath back, and hunkered down next to him. "That was good, jihoon-ah," he said softly. "Very good. Do you want me to order..."

 

He saw the blow coming, but he didn't have the heart to dodge, not when Jihoon's small face lit up triumphantly as he punched him hard on the arm.

 

"Got you!" Jihoon crowed. "Whip out that card, _hyung_!"

 

Soonyoung's heart did an uneasy flip-flop at the picture Jihoon presented,  hair flopped around his head and smile brilliant. His simple white tee clung to him in patches; he knew how strong the delicate body underneath was, how resilient.

 

No wonder he had felt so odd yesterday.

 

_I did this to myself._


	4. Day #8

“Again,” Soonyoung ordered, holding out the kick-pad.

 

It shuddered underneath Jihoon’s kick. He had a dancer’s strength in his legs and a week of practice in the basics along with some serious leg time in the gym had him kicking hard enough that Soonyoung’s arm jerked back.

 

Five kicks, then ten. A set each side. He could see the frustration coiling in the smaller, lithe frame, and saw the moment when it clicked in Jihoon’s mind. Taekwondo wasn’t just about the martial discipline, it wasn’t just about the spirituality of it. It was also about being able to kick, to move, to _fight_ until your heart exploded. It was like closing your eyes tightly and seeing that elusive white light behind them. But today… today was strange. Jihoon had come in looking like a thundercloud, and he moved as if something pained him – not physically, but mentally, causing him to lock up.

 

“To the bag.” Shaking out his hands, he pressed against the bag with his shoulders, bending his knees slightly to absorb shock. Jihoon kicked it as if he wanted to kick the sun out of the sky, a repetitive rat-tat-tat. “Harder. Come on, Jihoon, you can do better than that. Think of all those people that say that your music sucks. All those songs you’ll never complete. Think of…”

 

Jihoon kicked the bag so hard it bit back against his shoulder, form slowly perfecting itself as he learnt what worked and what didn’t. They didn’t have time for a stylistic program, no one would expect that of them, and precise katas could be left to later if he wanted to continue. Despite that, he left the bag with a murmur of warning and gestured. “Kick at me. I want to show you something.”

 

Complying, Jihoon did, and Soonyoung stepped in under the kick, catching it between body and arm. It still hurt a little, there was a lot of force behind it, but not as much as could be. “Hold,” he instructed gently, stretching the leg out. “Feel that stretch? How it complains up your muscles here?” His fingers trailed over the back of Jihoon’s knee, poking against the hamstrings and the angled of his hip before he dug his thumb gently into the joint. “Don’t get into the habit of treating your leg as one stiff bar. When you step in to kick, swivel your hips into it, but keep your leg bent at the knee. Then, when your thigh is extended to the correct spot, let your leg snap out with the momentum. One flows into the other. This is how you generate enough force.”

 

Jihoon frowned up at him as he pulled his leg back fussily. “Show me,” he demanded, tension thick on his shoulders.

 

Soonyoung nodded and turned to face the bag. “Okay, this is what happens if you kick like you want to.” Feeling awkward, he turned and snapped his leg forward in one motion, as if it was a sword. The bag still complained, still swung. “See? It can be done, but it’s inefficient. Look at this.” Jumping back again, he moved in with a standard roundhouse, turning his body out and snapping his leg forward. The kick made the bag fly and sounded like a gunshot. “Like that. Land the kick on the top of your foot, not with your toes. We don’t want broken-toed Jihoonie.”

 

“Literally stop calling me that. I’m only here because you picked me with that stupid game,” Jihoon snarled. “I’m tired, I clearly don’t know how to kick, and for all I care we can lose that tournament. This is stupid! I could be composing! Why’d you have to fucking pick me? I’m never going to be the fighter on this team!”

 

Soonyoung stared after him as he stomped off to the side, wondering how one person could be so wrong about themselves. Lee Jihoon was one of nature’s fighters, one only had to see how he approached life and pushed beyond his boundaries.


	5. Day #9

Day nine dawned choked with rain and humidity. Soonyoung felt it down to his toes and thought about complaining about the bags underneath his eyes, but decided to spare the rest. He had rolled around the previous night as he tried to understand where he had gone wrong. Even now he couldn’t figure it out. Grimacing, he changed into exercise clothes and scooped his hair up in a series of tiny ponytails to get the mass off his face, thinking longingly of the hair-noona’s little clips. It took him a moment to pull his running shoes on and sneak out of the still-quiet dorm. Breathing out slowly, he looked left and right before he started running.

 

His route took him through Gangnam to one of the scenic runs along the Han River. Because it was so early, it was just serious runners out, each in their own little cloud, and he was thankful for that. Five kilometres, then ten as he circled back to the studio, tiredly making his way in. His first stop was water, his second his locker; his third would have been the showers there if a smaller figure didn’t fade into being from a dark corridor.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon said colourlessly. “I don’t really know what was wrong with me yesterday.”

 

Soonyoung could take a guess: over-exertion, being trapped in your own mind, dark thoughts, perhaps a combination of all three – their genius composer ran himself as ragged as Soonyoung did at times. “It’s okay,” he muttered, reaching up to rake his sodden hoodie off, shoulders working as he pulled it off. “Not that it’s okay that you felt that way, but I accept your apology. I said some bad things too. I shouldn't have, I'm sorry too.” It had cost him an hour of rolling around before he had realised that poking Jihoon’s need for perfection to make him work harder hadn’t been the right thing.

 

“Do you… do you have ponytails in your hair?” Jihoon asked suspiciously.

 

Soonyoung shrugged as he hung his hoodie up on the side of the locker. “I sweat like a motherfucker when I dance or run. I don’t like the feeling of my hair sticking to my skin.”

 

“It, um, looks kind of cute.”

 

“Thank you?” Somehow, he felt as if he had stepped into a twin universe, where they used awkward small-talk and compliments to edge back to an even footing. “Do you have some time today?”

 

Jihoon nodded uneasily. “Same time. I checked our schedules, we don’t have much going on today so I thought I could go home and sleep. Were you just out running? In this rain?”

 

Soonyoung reached down to pull his shirt over his head, using it as a towel, missing the quick flicker of Jihoon’s eyes in the process. “It’s refreshing,” he said vaguely. “I don’t have to listen to the city be loud around me.” Shivering at a trickle of wind, he dug in his locker, frowning. Perhaps he hadn’t thought this through entirely.

 

“Here,” Jihoon muttered, pulling his own hoodie off and tossing it over. “Put it on before you get a cold.”

 

Soonyoung looked down at the soft grey thing hesitantly before pulling it up and over his head, feeling the fluffy material tickle warmly down his body. It smelled of Jihoon too, faintly like the unobtrusive cologne he preferred, which made him feel as if he had his arms around him. It fit too, not that shocking, and he pulled the hood up over his head. “Thanks. Won’t you be cold now? Can’t have your throat getting hurt.”

 

“Can’t have our choreographer get flu,” Jihoon countered, plucking at his long-sleeved thermal shirt underneath. “I’ll survive until I get to the dorm. This afternoon?”

 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung said awkwardly. “If you want.”

 

Jihoon bit his lip and scooted away, but stopped in the doorway. “It’s okay if you call me Jihoonie,” he said quietly. “If no one else is around. I’m sorry.”

 

Soonyoung’s heart pinched from a sudden spike of pure happiness. “Yeah,” he said, smiling at Jihoon like a sunrise. “Yeah, I will. Sleep well.”


	6. Chapter 6

“You’ve taught him Chon-ji and Dan-gun so far?” Seungcheol asked as he watched Jihoon kick the back slowly and repetitively.

 

Soonyoung nodded. “Yes, hyung. I didn’t want to take it beyond that because it’s an exhibition match between new players. It’s more valuable teaching him to attack and recognise them, so that he can dodge. I’ll start him on the hip and shoulder throws tomorrow.” He paused. “Jihoon-ah is doing surprisingly good.”

 

“Jihoon-ah is a fighter through and through,” his eldest hyung opined. “And it helps that he’s so small and used to exertion from being such a good dancer. His speed’ll make a better defense than his theory at this point in time.” He reached out to clap a hand on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “Well done. How’s the choreography for the Asian tour going?”

 

Soonyoung wiggled a hand back and forth. “This is cutting into it a little,” he admitted. “But I moved more responsibility to Channie, he’s really shaping up to become a good choreographer, and Jun-hyung and Minghao-ah are there if he has big problems.”

 

Seungcheol smiled sideways at him. “Good. We can review again in a month and I’ll see how he fares against a stranger.” He clapped him on the shoulder, called a goodbye to Jihoon and left them to it.

 

Feeling oddly accomplished, Soonyoung wandered towards Jihoon’s position, signalling for a break. “Sit down so that I can look at your legs.”

 

It was a measure of the situation that Jihoon complied, rolling back on the plastic mat and merely holding out a leg, trying desperately to breathe. No kicking, no punching, no pushing him away with the foot; seeing it made Soonyoung feel oddly proud. He sat down on the mat and draped the slim leg over his lap, feeling carefully over the striking surfaces from the foot to the skin, eyes half-mast as he ran his fingers slowly up and down.

 

“…what are you doing?” Jihoon asked, voice half-uncomfortable, half-curious.

 

“I’m feeling for the heat remaining,” Soonyoung said gently, cupping his palm over one small feet. “If you were wearing a dobok, the thicker material would absorb a little of the force. With these kinds of leggings, the material is thinner, because it’s made for cardio thermal regulation and wicking away moisture.”

 

“You almost don’t sound like an idiot,” Jihoon drawled out, and yelped when Soonyoung pinched at his calf in retaliation. “Ow! C’mon, I’m joking. I doubt they make them in my size.”

 

Soonyoung opened his eyes, fingers wrapping comfortably around Jihoon’s delicate ankle. “We can get you a kid one, Jihoonie…” As expected, when Jihoon sat to kick at him with the other leg, he had just enough leverage to catch and twist, capturing that one as well. “You’re not that short,” he rebuked. “They make them for way shorter people than you. Hold still. You’re drinking those iron and calcium supplements Manager-hyungnim got us?” As he spoke, he felt the shin with the back of two fingers, knuckles gently pressing in. Seconds later, both checked, he let him go. “You’re fine.”

 

Jihoon stared at him. “I know I’m fine,” he grumbled. “And yes, I’m taking the tablets, okay? I’m nearly pissing orange these days, but I’m taking them.”

 

“Better piss orange than have hairline fractures develop,” Soonyoung opined. “Stretches, and stop grumbling.”

 

They went through the stretches they normally did as dancers; Jihoon felt almost watery afterwards, and scooped himself up with a groan. “I’m getting old,” he complained as he went for a towel. “I’m off to the studio.”

 

“Hear me out,” Soonyoung murmured. “How about you not go to your studio and come out with me? There’s that manhwa café I wanted to try out and they sell meals there. You have cubbies and they have blankets, and everyone’ll leave you alone if you want to listen to music and read and eat.” He reached to palm his neck, frowning at the weird feel to the air. “We can walk there first to work up an appetite. We’re all done recording, aren’t we?” He covered embarrassment with a laugh. “Hyung will pay for you, okay?”

 

Jihoon considered the offer, looking at Soonyoung’s face. He was trying to be cute, with puffed cheeks and lips, until he couldn’t believe this the guy that could legit kick through a thin room divider. “For food and drink _and_ rental?” he asked doubtfully. “And you’ll leave me alone when I want to play mobile games?”

 

“My honour as Performance Lead,” Soonyoung said solemnly. “Come on, you’re doing well. Call it your month reward for working so hard.”

 

Jihoon didn’t waste any breath arguing. He merely kicked up from the mat and stormed the showers. Thirty minutes later they wandered into the café and he waited with a jutted chin until Soonyoung pulled out his card and they got their armbands. He disappeared soon after, ghosting into the stacks of manhwa as Soonyoung stared after him.

 

“Can you take him the tallest Coke you have?” Soonyoung asked, sighing, as he turned to the clerk, scanning his card again for credits. “And keep them coming. And if he grunts at you, please forgive him.”

 

The clerk, a tiny cute girl, muffled a giggle and nodded. Soonyoung’s smile stretched wide too – she blushed – and he turned to get something to read himself. He had just made himself comfortable in one of the hidden, pillow-filled nooks before he felt a back press against his. It felt as if he recognised every vertebra from the way they slumped against him, and the owner gave a determined wiggle until he could make a pillow of Soonyoung’s shoulder.

 

He said nothing, just handed the Coke over his shoulder as the clerk brought it over to them. It disappeared, he heard a hiss, and moments later the sound of one of those mobile games Jihoon loved so much. Settling in himself, he buried his nose in a manhwa. Outside, drizzling gently against the windows, the rain caressed Seoul’s streets, wrapping the café in a grey blanket. It was only long minutes later that he realised he was humming along with the stupidly infectious music of the game, and the thought made him smile.

 

Perhaps… perhaps it hadn’t been bad luck that made him draw the tiger card. His eyes fluttered closed briefly, showing Slam Dunk afterimages against his lids. It felt warm and cozy, and he felt so _happy_.

 

Right here it was a small but definite happiness, even if it did involve a guy he still didn’t quite understand after all the years of living together. Lee Jihoon was such a mystery he might never understand him, but even that made him happy and wiggly, as if he had a present he could open endlessly.

 

Face down, with a huge grin behind his mask, he settled into the moment.


End file.
